The Cold Quiet
by pennie4thoughts
Summary: Edward Cullen was always a mystery. The one thing that was certain about him? Bella Swan. After a soul-shattering ending to what was a love of epic proportions, they meet again.
1. Chapter 1

I had started/posted this story a while back, under a different penname and with a different plot. That's all changed. If this sounds vaguely familiar, that might be why. Chapters are short, posting will be frequent (steady at the least).

* * *

i.

The knocking at his door came earlier than expected. He was still partly dreaming as he sat up, leaning his bare back against the headboard. With veined, tense fingers, he rubbed his hands over his tired eyes and through his wild-sleep hair.

His room was dim, lighter than he liked. He had hardly gotten any rest. Sleep—_good sleep_—was hard to come by. The day before replayed in his head, kept his mind awake and his heart racing.

He yawned before slipping into a pair of dark gray sweatpants, moving quickly to answer the persistent pounding.

"Morning, brother."

Edward didn't offer a response but held the door open wide. Jasper stepped inside, his ash blonde hair freshly shaved. The shoulders of his black overcoat glistened from the light rain falling from the gray clouds. Shaking his head, tiny sprinkles of water jumped off of him and onto the wooden floor. He offered Edward his hand before pulling him into a short embrace.

They sat in the living room, a dark cherry-wood coffee table separating them. Jasper glanced around the pristine space before adjusting his position on the deep, dark gray couch. He never could get used to how unused the place looked.

"How'd it go?" Edward asked.

"We did what you asked."

Edward nodded, the muscles in his jaw flexed tight with tension.

"How is she?"

Jasper paused. His eyes fell on a small silver pendant sitting on the tabletop.

"We crashed her engagement party. How do you _think_ she is?" he replied, leaning back on the couch and running his palm in small circles over the crown of his head.

"How did she look?"

Jasper rolled his head back, his brown eyes staring straight up at the tall ceiling.

"Shocked. Furious. Indignant. Take your pick."

Edward stood, his arms crossing over his chest, his patience instantly thinned.

"You know that's not what I meant."

With a loud sigh, Jasper rose to his feet.

"She looks insanely gorgeous. Stunning," he answered. He eyed the shiny pendant again before meeting Edward's stare. "But you know that, don't you?"

He didn't respond but headed to the kitchen. On the counter sat a short glass of water, a cell phone submerged inside. Edward fished it out and shook it dry.

"Get rid of that," he said, tossing the phone to Jasper.

Edward dumped the water into his sink, then washed the glass quickly. He was careful as he dried it, rubbing it until it whined against the towel. Placing it back in its place he turned to Jasper, who watched him quietly.

"When Aro catches wind of what happened..."

"I'll deal with Aro," Edward cut in.

* * *

The sky was black with night by the time he pulled off the road and parked outside of a dingy bar. He stepped into the grimy space, his hat snug on his head and his hands shoved into his pockets.

It was always the same song and dance. His broad shoulders and confident swagger caught their eye; his sharp jaw line and pouted lips kept their attention. It was the mesmerizing ivy of his irises and the velvet tenor of his voice that sealed the deal.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a Johnnie Walker Red, double short.

The bravest contender was blonde and she approached him before the bartender got the chance to slide him his drink.

"Hi there." She leaned into him, her head cocking flirtatiously to the side as she tried to get a peek at the goods beneath his cap.

Edward kept his gaze locked forward.

"You're beautiful but, no thanks," he responded.

He didn't want a blonde.

He declined several more advances in a similar manner. A polite no here, a swift rejection there. His right knee began to bounce as his patience had begun to teeter out, until finally, a petite brunette with matching eyes took the stool beside him.

"Picky."

He turned his head. It only took him a split second to decide that she would do. Her hair was a little shorter than he liked and her skin was a little darker than the pale he craved. But, she would do.

"Am I?" he responded.

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. She had watched him as he barely turned his head to assess the other women. She was well aware that she'd made it past the first hurdle.

"I'm Sophie."

"Hi, Sophie."

Edward nodded to the bartender who topped off his glass. He took a sip of his drink, staring at the girl over the rim of the cup.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" she asked.

He placed the glass on the bar and adjusted his hat.

"Nope."

Her confidence faltered. She nervously drummed her fingers on her knees as she watched him. She could have sat there and observed him all night. There was something about Edward Cullen.

"But I will buy you a drink."

Her fingers paused, before they came up to her lips as she bit flirtatiously on her nails.

Twenty minutes passed when she shut the door to his Camaro.

"Do you live around here?" she asked, buckling herself in.

"Nope."

"I don't live around here either."

"Doesn't matter."

* * *

The purr of his engine was rich and loud as he blew passed several exits on the highway. The car was silent the entire ride. He was glad. He didn't want her to speak and remind him of who she wasn't.

His knuckles tapped against the marble counter of the front desk of the hotel.

"We have an available room for one night. I'll just need a credit card. Incidentals, you know."

The young staff member folded his hands and smiled pleasantly. Stale elevator music played in the lobby.

Edward turned to Sophie.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me," she responded.

He chuckled as he leaned in to her. His hot breath tickled at her ear, made her stomach flip.

"Just give him your credit card. I'll take care of the room."

Sophie's back was littered with freckles, and it was distracting for him. Her breasts were too full and her ass wasn't full enough. She was warm in the wrong places, and her cries made the aftertaste of his scotch bitter in his mouth.

Her hands grasped at the wall as she threw her head back. Her knees would be sore tomorrow, but not as sore as she would be between her legs. Sweat collected between her breasts, dripping onto the white-white hotel sheets.

She moaned wildly, cried for him to push her to the furthest reaches of her limits.

He shut his eyes. Her voice was all wrong. He was losing focus. He pulled all of his energy, relentlessly pounding into her and concentrating on the memory of Her body. Her warmth. Her cries.

But it was never the same.

He rested his back against the headboard. His eyes traveled to the closed door to the bathroom, the sound of running water leaking through the bottom, escaping with the light. He stood and dressed quickly. Leaving three one-hundred-dollar bills—crisp and clean—he gently closed the door behind him.

* * *

See ya next, next week if you fancy it. See ya not, if not.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. I'll be out of town, so I thought I'd post before I left. I'm always shocked when there's any interest at all, so thanks for reading :)

I'm not using a beta for this story so please do forgive the errors I make.

* * *

ii.

Her hands were shaking and so the bottle of Merlot shook as well. Her engagement ring clinked against the glass as she grasped the neck and pulled the cork out. She took a deep, calming breath before pouring the maroon liquid into the glass. It didn't help, and the wine splashed and nearly spilled out as she poured.

"Here, Bella. Let me."

Rosalie took the bottle from her with an encouraging smile. She poured a little more into Bella's glass before filling her own. She looked carefully at her best friend whose face was indented with worry lines and a solemn frown.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

Bella shook her head, her eyes staring at the air above her. Her hair was still pinned up in a light bun, wisps of chocolate brown framing her heart shaped face. She was still wearing her blue cocktail dress. She had to hike up the hem as she ran after Jasper, after he and his men had all but destroyed her engagement party.

_"Jasper!"_

_He had stopped, and his men stopped too. He waved them off, ordering them to go on. He turned to the girl, now a woman, who he had known since he was an awkward teenager; the friend he had chosen to leave, for the friend he ruined her engagement for._

_Her heels clicked against the asphalt of the restaurant's parking lot. She was out of breath by the time she stood in front of him._

_"Bella-" Jasper started._

_Her hand slapped across his face, leaving her mark of anger in a red splotch on his left cheek. His head snapped to the side; bringing it back, he hung it low._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"You tell… you tell him, he does not get a say in my life."_

_Jasper shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and ignored the sting of her slap. He stared into her eyes, which were wild with fury and, even after all this time, pain._

_"I'll tell him. But what I said still stands. You marry that guy… there will be trouble."_

_Bella's body begun to shake, whether from anger or sorrow, Jasper couldn't be sure._

_"He does not own me!" she cried. Her eyes begun to moisten and her plump bottom lip had started quivering._

_Jasper nodded as he backed away._

_"I'm sorry."_

Bella rubbed her hands over her face before combing her fingers through her hair. When she met the resistance from the pins and her twisted locks, she pulled them out and threw them onto the dining table where she and Rosalie sat.

"Bella, talk to me."

"What's there to talk about?"

"For starters… Edward."

Rosalie paused, gauging Bella's reaction to the name neither of them had spoken since she had shown up on Rosalie's doorstep with her eyes bloodshot, face red and tear stained. She knew that Bella was dealing with more than just a ruined party.

"I'm fine, Rose. That was a long time ago. I was a stupid kid with stupid ideas about love."

"You were a kid when you fell in love with him. You were eighteen when he broke your heart."

Bella stared into her glass of wine. She began to swirl it, watching as the liquid spun in circles. A bitter smile fastened on her lips.

"Broke my heart," she repeated with a small, humorless chuckle.

Rosalie felt a sympathetic pull in her own heart. Memories of her old friend, destroyed and emotionally battered, resurfacing. When she found her that day, it was as though he had taken the air from her lungs, the blood in her veins, the beating of her heart. He took her spirit.

"More than your heart," she said, reaching out for her hand.

Bella shut her eyes, refusing to let her tears spill. She had promised herself that she would not shed any more tears. Not for him.

"I'm not ready to talk about…_him_."

Rosalie nodded. "Can we at least talk about what Jasper said?"

Sighing, Bella took a large sip of her fine wine, not caring to taste and enjoy its age.

"It just—it doesn't make sense. Why did—_he_—send them? And, why will there be trouble if you marry Garrett?" Rosalie's perfect brown brows squeezed together as she sipped from her drink.

"I don't know. Maybe because he has some sort of sick notion that he has any rights over me and the decisions I make."

"Do you think it's because…" Rosalie paused, nervously grabbing her wine glass by the stem "…do you think he wants you back?"

Bella shook her head.

"No."

"How do you know-"

"Because I know him. If he did, he would have just come to me."

Rosalie sat quietly. The elephant in the room was large and obvious, and she didn't want to be the one to call attention to it.

"At least, I _knew_ him," Bella conceded.

"It's been a long time," Rosalie added. "I never told you, but I ran into him about two weeks ago."

Bella's head snapped up, she took quick steps back to the table and pulled her seat closer to Rosalie.

"What?"

"Yeah. Remember how I had to go out of town for that business thing? Well, I saw him at the hotel I was staying at. I was sitting at the bar, and he walked in. I knew it was him right away. He still dresses the same—black hat, dickies, black jacket. Anyway, he walked in and took a seat a few stools away from me. I guess he's still got that quiet Cullen charm, because it was like a minute before this redhead approached him. And he didn't even blink before turning her down. Then, a few minutes later, this leggy blonde—really gorgeous—comes up to him, and bam, same thing. So I just thought, hey, maybe he wants to be alone. But then this homely brunette sits next to him and suddenly, he starts making conversation with her." Rosalie paused, giving Bella time to digest. "Anyway, he ended up leaving with her. I guess he didn't recognize me as a blonde, you know, since I was always a fake redhead back then. Anyway, I tried not to think about it, but the next day, I went to the bar again and he was there, again, with a girl."

"The same girl?" Bella asked as her eyes rounded.

"No, a different girl. But, brunette with brown eyes."

Bella leaned back in her chair, the air she had been holding left her in a baffled sigh.

"He recognized me that time and it was like it clicked for him that I was there the night before too. He didn't say anything, but he gave me this look… it was so strange, like, he realized that I could think that he was crazy."

Bella sat quietly. Slowly, she ran her fingers through her hair.

_Brunette with brown eyes._

* * *

Bella laid on her bed as her phone rang for the fifth time. It was Garrett, and she didn't want to speak to him. Her fingers rubbed against the hollow of her neck. She sat up, throwing her legs over the edge of her bed, beside her nightstand. Opening the drawer, she pulled out a small box, inside was a plain silver chain. The chain hadn't been worn in years, but was still in perfect condition. No signs of rust or tarnish, none of neglect.

She had told herself time and time again to just let it go, throw it away, or let time take it. But, always, she found herself opening that drawer and pulling out that box, cleaning the chain and cleaning it again.

Hesitantly, she fastened it around her neck.

She lied back down, her fingers grasping at the delicate silver, and slowly she let the memories come back to her.

_When the McCartney's fostered Edward, Bella had noticed him right away. It wasn't only because he hung out with the McCartney's only son and Rosalie's then, sort of boyfriend, Emmett. There was something about how quiet he was, how intense his eyes were. And those eyes, they noticed her immediately too._

_It was instant, that connection, that pull to be near each other. It burned in them both._

_Overnight, Edward had become the latest desire of their ninth grade class. He was mysterious, always donning a hat, hardly smiling. He never had much to say, but when he did, it was clear that he was always paying attention, especially when it seemed like he wasn't paying attention at all._

_They grew close, as close as he would let her get, anyway._

_"Why do you always wear a hat?" she asked as they walked down the halls of their high school. He met her at her locker everyday._

_Edward shrugged, pulling the bill down to cover more of his face. She shook her head as she laughed, accepting his non-answer._

_They strolled into the cafeteria as they usually did and took a seat at an empty table._

_The table beside them, where the jocks usually sat, was loud with cheerleaders and football players. The JV girls had begun wearing their uniforms, the obnoxious gold and maroon of their school colors were everywhere._

_"Maybe I should try out for the squad," Bella joked as she watched Jessica Stanley twirl in her non-regulation length skirt. One of the jocks lifted the back of it, revealing her black spankys. She feigned offence and slapped at his hand as she glanced in their direction. It was obvious that Jessica was making a spectacle of herself for Edward. She was one of those girls that had to have the latest everything—phone, laptop, sweater, you name it._

_Edward shook his head, telling Bella with his sour expression that her joke was far removed from amusing. She laughed, poking at his side with her fingers to get him to smile. It worked, and he bent down, grasping at her fingers. Bella had laughed, throwing her head back as they flirted like the teenagers they were._

_It had been so quick that it took Bella a moment to realize that Edward was standing, his hand grasping Jessica's wrist._

_"S-sorry, I was just messing around…" Jessica stammered as her eyes filled with surprise. The table of jocks and cheerleaders were shocked into silence and it was as though the entire cafeteria had frozen._

_Snatching his cap back, Edward released her wrist, quickly exiting._

_"What happened?" Bella asked, watching as Edward disappeared._

_"I just, I just wanted to mess around with him." Jessica shrugged._

_"Why would you do that?"_

_She shrugged again, her high ponytail bouncing._

_Bella turned swiftly, following in Edward's direction. She let her gut guide her straight to the field. And that was exactly where she found him, isolated and fuming._

_She stood in front of him, unsure if she should be there, and thinking maybe she should just leave. But when he looked up at her, his eyes gentle when he met her gaze, she stood still, taking a few beats before asking, "Why did you get so mad at Jessica?"_

_He turned his head from her, staring out into the field. Football season was starting, and the air was filled with the smell of freshly trimmed grass. He didn't answer and continued to stare out into the distance. After several moments of silence, she turned on her heel, ready to let him deal with it in his own way._

_"I just don't like people touching things that don't belong to them."_

_She whirled back around and when she did, he hung his head low, hiding his face. She sat down on the bench, her legs folding in front of him._

_"Oh. I can understand that," she said._

_He looked up at her and reached out, grasping a strand of her hair that had been picked up by the wind. She smiled at him crookedly as he tucked the rest of her hair behind her ear. He brought his hand back and stuck both of his hands into the pockets of his jacket._

_She scooted her body closer to him, her knees pressing against his. He stared at her, hardly blinking, dead on, in her eyes. Timidly, she reached her hand out and grasped the bill of his hat with her fingers. He stayed perfectly still. Slowly, she lifted the bill, watching him watch her. When it was completely off, she giggled at his hair, sticking up in every which way. The sides of his lips began to twitch and a tiny smile began to play at the corners of his mouth._

_He was so beautiful with sharp cheekbones and pretty skin, and those eyes and that hair._

_"Can I?" she asked, lifting her hand to touch the bronze mess._

_He gave a small nod of his chin._

_Starting at his forehead, she had gently run her fingers through._

_"Wow." She breathed. "Soft."_

_At that, Edward had broken into a full-on, cheek to cheek smile. She laughed too, realizing how stupid she must have sounded. He reached for his hat, and she dropped her hand, thinking that he was going to cover himself again. But he surprised her, placing his hat on her head instead._

_It was too big, covering half of her face. It smelled good inside that hat, like shampoo and a hint of cigarettes. When she lifted the bill, her heart fluttered with a million butterflies. He leaned in, the tip of his nose bumping against the tip of hers. His hands reached out and grasped her hips, sliding her closer to him. He tilted his head and she closed her eyes as she waited for the feel of his lips. When she felt them, pressing lightly against hers, she thought she might burst from the bubbles of excitement that boiled inside of her._

_They walked back together, his hat on her and her hand in his. From that day forward, no one touched Edward's hat, or his girl._

* * *

Thanks for sticking around.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nearly five a.m. when Edward exited into the suburban neighborhood, complete with white picket fences and blooming gardens, family vans parked in bricked driveways and the streets lined with garbage cans for the weekly pick up. Everything was a misty, navy blue, with the sun not quite awake and the night slipping in a slow retreat.

His vintage Camaro was out of place with the newly built track homes, but it was too early for anyone to notice him. He has made this drive five weeks in a row now, usually after a fuck like he just had. He pulled to the curb, moved the stick shift to neutral, and shut the engine off.

His hands still smelled of Sophie and her spit and sweat. He reached for his pack of Marlboros and pulled one out. Sticking it between his lips, he got out of his car and walked, nearly a block, to the house with the mauve trimming. There was only one car parked on the driveway, a brand new BMW, white with a tan interior. He ran his index finger across the left side of its body as he made his way to the side of the two-story house.

The wooden fence was cool and sturdy. His back leaned against it as he pulled out his lighter. The large rectangular window on the second floor of the home was dark. He'd have to wait another twenty minutes or so; until her alarm clock began to spout early morning news in an attempt to wake her.

But, he could wait. For her, he could wait.

The sound of FM radio rambled through the windows, though it was faint. Edward straightened himself up. It was only a moment later when the dim yellow glow of her bedside lamp shined through the window.

He braced himself. Even though he would only see tiny glimpses of her, he waited in anticipation. He held his breath as the shadow of her figure projected onto the far wall, and the outline of her wrapping herself in her robe made him stretch his neck to get a better look. He silently begged for her to move closer to the window. He only needed to see her face once to get him through; though, who knew how long it would satiate him this time. Like a potent drug, his cravings had begun to grow in need and frequency.

His patience was rewarded with a quick glimpse of her shoulder, covered in the silk periwinkle of her robe. His heart pounded wildly as she moved nearly to the center of the window, her back facing him, her hands combing through her head of tangled morning hair as she looked at herself from the mirror on her bureau. He brought his cigarette to his lips and pulled at it, trying to calm his nerves. His head moved as she moved, following her as she stepped to the right, then, as she bent to the left. When she turned, her profile facing him, he took a step forward to get closer.

His shoulders dropped as she walked away.

When she disappeared he kept his eyes locked on the window. Only when he heard the sound of running water coursing through the pipes did he tear his eyes away. His hand reached into his pant pocket and he pulled out the silver pendant. He turned the piece, over and over in his fingers, studying it, as though he hadn't looked at it everyday for the past few weeks. He squeezed it in his hand before dropping it back into his pocket.

He was irritated as he walked back to his car. He wanted to stay, see if he could catch her after her shower, but the sun had begun to light up the sky, and the windows of other houses had started lighting up as well. The neighborhood was waking.

* * *

She wrapped the fluffy towel around her and used a hand to wipe the steam from the mirror. She paused, staring at the diamond ring on her finger. Water dripped from her hair and down her legs, forming a puddle around her pruned feet.

The guilt of sending her fiancé away began to creep up on her. How could she explain what happened the night of their engagement party and why? Explanations meant revelations, and she was not equipped—mentally or emotionally—to begin to cross that bridge.

Garrett had been so jittery, so shocked and terrified. Why wouldn't he be? Five men had come barreling through the doors of the restaurant they had reserved for the evening. The men were large and burly, with orders that they would follow through with—no matter what.

"Now folks, don't fret. Continue on with the celebration!" Jasper had announced, straightening out his coat, strolling past the long table of hors d'oeuvres.

The room, full of their guests—friends, family, business partners—had all frozen in their places. Most were sitting at their round tables, decorated in white linen cloths and topped with an elaborate centerpiece. Others were scattered across the room, some standing in corners with their wine glasses, some holding their plates near the buffet.

Four of the five men had moved to strategically place themselves at the exits and near the kitchen to ensure order.

Garrett had stood from his seat at the head table, his mouth gaped and his hand frozen around his glass of gold champagne.

"What is this?" he croaked, his eyes wandering from Jasper to each of the other four men.

Bella stood also, from her seat beside Garrett. As shocked as she was, she wasn't nearly as lost as her fiancé appeared. She knew who Jasper was and who had sent him.

"I just need to deliver a message," Jasper said, locking his warm brown eyes with Garrett's cool blue.

Bella had begun to move, assuming the message was for her. Garrett stuck his arm out to stop her and she grasped his arm ready to push it aside.

"I'd like a word." Jasper nodded to Garrett.

She stopped, her head turning to her fiancé, puzzled that Jasper wanted to speak with him and not her.

She closed her hand into a fist. He did not need to drag Garrett into her mess. Her past was her problem.

A problem she needed to handle.

She went on with her morning routine, drying her hair and dressing herself. She dabbed on a bit of light makeup and headed down to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee and fix herself a bowl of cereal.

She stood at the counter, stirring her spoon into the Cheerios drowning in milk. She stared out at nothing in particular as she scooped her breakfast into her mouth.

If she was going to do this, it had to be today, or she knew she would lose her nerve.

The coffee tasted especially bitter, and the bowl of cereal wasn't settling well in her stomach. The drive to the financial district was short as she beat early morning traffic. She was one of the first to arrive at her office, and her heels clicked loudly against the marble floors of the lobby.

"Morning, Ms. Swan," Terry greeted.

"Good morning."

"You're here bright and early."

Bella stopped at the front desk, resting her bag and briefcase on the counter.

"Listen, I plan on leaving the office early, around lunch. Could you make sure to send any calls to Lucy?"

"Absolutely."

"Great, thank you."

It was nearly eleven thirty by the time she could no longer pretend to focus on the report in her hands. She collected her things and shoved her work into her bag, promising to complete it later that night when her mind wasn't so much of a one-way road.

* * *

The drive to her old neighborhood took a great deal of effort. Her hands clutched at the steering wheel tightly, making the tops of her knuckles white and her palms sweaty. Her car starkly contrasted from the old, beaten vehicles lining the sidewalks. It had been years since she last drove through the mean streets of her childhood. Nothing had changed in the place that changed her forever.

She pulled into a small plaza with only two establishments: a liquor store and a pool hall.

The door was heavy and the smell of tobacco and dirty men hit her as she stepped inside. She was noticed immediately by the handful of men at the pool tables and the man tending bar. Her nerves began to respond to the gazes of intrigue. She swallowed it down and walked toward the closest table.

A tall man with dark eyes and a sleazy grin held his cue in his hands as he sat lazily on the edge of the pool table. His eyes moved slowly, like an elevator, stopping at each department of her body, until he reached her eyes.

"I'm looking for Edward Cullen," she announced.

The man tending bar stopped what he was doing and a dark hush covered the entire room. If she didn't have everyone's attention before, she most certainly had it then. It was a dangerous kind of attention, and there was really no turning back.

"Don't know anyone by that name, sugar." The man's sleazy grin was replaced by a tightness in his lips as he took predatory steps toward her.

Bella sucked in a short breath, feeling uneasy as he got closer.

"I-I know somebody here knows him."

"I'm afraid you're in the wrong place." The man was closer than arms length from her. "But I'm still glad you're here."

He grabbed her by her waist and pushed her against the table, leaning into her so her back arched over the green fabric of the tabletop. Her chest heaved, the wind nearly knocked out of her.

The man's face, greasy and marred with scars, pushed into her hair.

"Get off of me," she demanded, barely controlling the shaky fear that was growing in her throat.

"I don't think I will."

The man pushed his body forward, forcing her flat on her back. His hands ran up her thighs and onto her stomach.

She wriggled beneath him.

"Get off of me!"

She was shocked when she felt him rolled away from her. She scrambled to her feet. Her hands covered her mouth as she saw that the man was on his back over the table, Jasper holding him down by his neck, a pool cue pointed threateningly at his mouth.

"Touch her again, and I will knock each of your teeth out, one-by-one."

The man nodded, his hands open in complete surrender. The veins at his temples began to bulge as Jasper's grip around his neck cut the flow of blood. He gave one more squeeze before letting him up.

Jasper turned to Bella and gestured with his head for her to follow him. Her knees were weak as she scampered behind him to a back room. He held the door open for her, frowning as he shut it after her.

She followed him with her eyes as he paced back and forth, rubbing his hand over scruff that he had let grow on his chin.

"What the hell are you thinking coming here?" His hands rested at his hips, and the space between his brows wrinkled as he squeezed them together.

Bella stood at the center of the room, shaking.

Jasper moved to the table and pulled out a chair.

"Sit down," he said gently.

He took a seat across from her and wiped his hand across his chin.

"What are you doing here, Bella?"

"I need to talk to Edward. I need you to tell me where I can find him." Her hands were still shaking as she placed them on her knees.

"You know I can't do that," Jasper responded, shaking his head.

She leaned back in her chair. She knew it was going to take some convincing.

"Look, I'm not leaving until you tell me where he is." She crossed her arms as she folded one leg over the other.

Jasper sighed and leaned toward her, placing his elbows on the table. They stared at each other until the corners of his lips twitched as he gave in to a small smile. He hooked his finger into the left of his mouth and pulled back the skin.

"Know how I lost these molars?" he asked, lifting his chin to give her a better look at the gold teeth at the back of his mouth.

She shook her head.

"A while back some guys came looking for Edward. Big guys. Ugly motherfuckers. Anyway, I was by myself and I put up a pretty good fight, but there were four of them so they got the upper hand. They had me locked down for a good hour. After punches and kicks weren't doing the job, they started pulling teeth. Tell us where that fucker is and you can go. That's what they kept saying." His shoulders shook with laughter as he retold a story she was sure he had told over and over. "I might be wearing dentures today if a couple of my guys hadn't shown up." He laughed again. "Bella, you remember me back in the day? All bones and bad skin and greasy hair?" Slightly confused, she nodded. "Your boy, I mean, Edward, he was the difference for me, you know? He beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who gave me grief. And before him, I had a lot of grief. I survived because of him." His expression turned stolid, serious as he leaned into her. "Point is, those guys? They would have had to have taken every last tooth, they would have had to stick a bullet straight through my heart, because there was no way I was talking." He leaned closer to her. "So, sorry pretty girl, but there ain't a whole lot you can do to get me to spill."

Bella's shoulders dropped in disappointment. And even though she knew that was true, she begged.

"Jasper. Please." Giant tear teardrops slid down her cheeks.

"Listen, I'll tell him you're looking for him. That's the best I can do. And, if he wants to see you, he'll find you. But that's all I can do." He leaned back in his seat, finality in his stare.

She could feel the defeat settle over her heart.


End file.
